


Smoke

by Agent_24



Series: A Lingering [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Recall, Shotgunning, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: Transience versus permanence: the state or fact of lasting only for a short time versus the state or quality of lasting or remaining unchanged indefinitely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to the [Myst](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nq2o1uJPEFc) mix created by [Pulse8](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCnOTVWVaIh3NoJsbwq4Tucg)

* * *

  **Transience**

* * *

 

“Almost.” Jesse grins.

“Stop watching me,” Gabriel snaps.

“Why? Am I makin’ you nervous?”

Gabriel lowers his cigar, one of Jesse’s, flavored with cinnamon. Outside, rain patters on the stone roof and taps against the windows, thunder rumbling close overhead and waves crashing against the cliffside below. There’s an air of unease over Ilios that the storm only serves to enhance, originally caused by the murder of a tourist. Gabriel calls it an assassination. Jesse calls it a vacation (they finished on day two; Gabriel had scheduled the mission for a week).

The master suite of their small but luxurious guesthouse went, of course, to Gabriel, complete with a view of both the ocean and a cascading line of pale houses, a large bathroom with a jetted tub, and a walk-in closet. The whole thing is nicer than anything Jesse’s ever seen, though he deeply favors Gabriel’s king sized bed and sheets of Egyptian cotton.

“You’re annoying the shit out of me,” Gabriel says.

Jesse laughs again, warm and smooth like syrup and honey. “You ain’t makin’ the right shape with your mouth,” he chides.

“I’m _trying,_ ” Gabriel says irritably. “Give me a minute.”

Jesse leans back on his elbow, takes a long drag from his cigar and exhales a billowing cloud of smoke. “You ain’t gonna get it right off the bat, angel,” he says, rolling his head to his shoulder.

Gabriel slides him a look at the nickname. Thunder rumbles. The lights are out in Gabriel’s room, walls briefly lit by the flash of lightning. “I am,” he insists.

“You _ain’t,_ ” Jesse challenges, all easy confidence.

Gabriel draws in smoke, carefully pushes the air out of his mouth. He purses his lips, brows knitted with focus. The smoke ring doesn’t come out as a ring at all and falls apart hardly six inches from his face. He scowls.

Jesse snickers. "Told you."

Gabriel sighs. The edge of the bed sinks under his weight as he draws his legs up, crawling over to lay on his stomach, propped up by his elbows. “Show me again,” he commands.

“Yessir,” Jesse answers, tone lazy, more teasing than respectful. His smoke ring is flawless, and so is the one he makes after it, the second ring fitting inside the first perfectly.

“Show off,” Gabriel murmurs. His eyes rest on Jesse’s mouth. “Again.”

Jesse’s lips quirk. He brings the cigar up, held between two fingers, and inhales smoke.

Gabriel grabs hold of Jesse’s jaw. Jesse watches him with wide eyes. Gabriel presses closer and lightly nips his lip.

Thunder rumbles. Jesse breathes out flavored smoke.

 

* * *

  **Permanence**

* * *

 

“I thought you liked cinnamon.”

Jesse cups his hand around the flame, cigar pinched between his teeth. “Sure do.”

Gabriel inspects the label under the lid of the box, brows raised. “This is caramel.”

“Uh-huh.”

Gabriel pulls his legs up onto the couch, leans closer with a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “What are you doing with caramel, caramelo?” he asks with a faint hum of amusement.

Jesse closes his eyes, lifts his chin until the back of his neck hits the top of the couch, breathing out a steady stream. Rain drums lightly on the roof. The living room has a pleasant chill to it, the fan overhead spinning slow, windows cracked just enough to let out the smell of cigars.

Jesse says, “You like caramel.”

“I do."

“Well, you’re welcome, then.”

Gabriel chuckles, low and rasping. It’s not quite the same sort of rumble as before the explosion, but Jesse likes it all the same. “I don’t really need to smoke now, bombón.”

Jesse opens one eye, peeks at Gabriel through his lashes. “You like to,” he replies.

Gabriel hums again, all sorts of pleased. “You didn’t have to buy a whole box for me. Cinnamon’s fine.”

Jesse reaches up, thumb sliding along Gabriel’s beard. “Might be that I love you or somethin’. Might be that I like treatin’ you special.”

Gabriel smiles and ducks his chin to nibble at Jesse’s thumb. He takes the cigar out of Jesse’s hand and holds it up, smug, and makes a smoke ring without taking a drag.

“Show off,” Jesse scoffs.

Thunder rumbles. The cabin lights go out. In the dark, Gabriel breathes out caramel smoke.

**Author's Note:**

> chrysalism  
> n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.  
>   
> \- The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows


End file.
